There were supposed to be no secrets here.
This was never a place for what we were,
always who we were becoming, together.
Maybe that was my flaw,
believing we were in this together.
You were the one
I called when I held that blade to my skin
you were the one
who took every sharp object out of my room
and refused to give them back until months after.
You sat through an entire meal with me
while I chewed like that hamburger was sawdust
and when I couldn’t stop crying
you let me sleep all night with you
in your twin sized bed.
So what was I supposed to do
when I woke up to that message?
I don’t know what I was supposed to do,
but I’ll tell you what I did;
I threw my phone across the room
and cried like I haven’t since I was 16,
with a morning stomach
dry heaving over the side of my bed.
I know you think I cry a lot
and we laugh about sometimes
but this was different
and I’m glad nobody had to see it,
it was an ugly, snot-filled cry.
What should I have done?
I’ll tell you what I did;
I curled up in your twin sized bed
looking at the pictures on your wall,
and that card I wrote you when we first became friends.
We were supposed to be in this together.
You weren’t supposed to go back to that,
I don’t want to think of you
with dirt in your blood,
with a needle in your arm.
Everyone says its nothing personal,
and I trust in God, I do
but when the day ends
and my body slows
as my thoughts race,
how the fuck am I not
supposed to take this